Speechless
by Oktarin
Summary: And just as I begin to regain my wits she's raising her finger, dripping with hick pink, to her lips; her black as night lips that have parted to reveal wickedly sharp teeth and a dark pink tongue. I gulp, a mistake that I need to stop making, and she laughs that warm, musical, laugh of hers I secretly adore.


I should be working on my other AT fic… here. This will make up for it. I hope.

Speechless-

Black lips curve upwards into a smirk, parting just enough to reveal a flash of white teeth. I frown at her but just like her counterpart it has an undesirable effect. Her smirk turns into a smile and a laugh bubbles up from her chest, legs and arms curling farther inwards as she floats before me. Her eyes are sparkling, her smile bright and mischievous, a challenge to question her further. But I wont fall for it. Asking her at all was a mistake I should have known better than to make, yet another similarity between the two vampires. At least putting up with Marshall has prepared me for her.

Marceline's resemblance to Marshall Lee is uncanny. It goes beyond their species' shared attributes of grey skin, dark hair, and sharp teeth. Both are vainer than they appear, not as evil as they might want you to think, tricksters at heart. Forever stuck in not only a teenage body, it seems, but also the teenage mind set. Always wearing dark clothes, speaking too loudly, being all around rude. They aren't evil but they still love to manipulate everyone they can, especially Fiona. Not to mention the delight they take in getting under my skin, to press as many buttons as they can until I explode. They are insufferable. But the little things that are different seem to speak much louder.

I can't help but notice how Marceline's smiles are more mischievous than cocky, her laugh is more musical than loud and rough, her strength is not as obvious. Marshall is tall and muscular, although still very skinny. I've seen him shirtless plenty of times, always trying to show off in front of Fiona. Cocky, smug, and self centered. That's all he is.

Truthfully, Marceline is the same way. She's stubborn, rash, and wild on top of it all. But for whatever reason I feel I can see her good side better than Marshall's. Perhaps it is because she has done me no wrong, I can't say the same for him.

I think I may be lying to myself though.

Marceline's physical appearance is much different, she looks to be delicate. She's not short but not tall, she isn't skinny but she isn't fat. She's curvy and moves fluidly, when she wants to, that is. Other times she just barges in like Marshall, shoulders slumped and complaining of boredom. But I've seen her act elegant; arm reaching out carefully; long, nimble, fingers, tipped with claws; plucking a strawberry from a bowl. So I know she's capable of it.

She's kind too, sweet to Fiona even if it isn't in the most conventional of ways, kind to the people of my kingdom when she's not harassing them.

She could be a Queen if she just grew up. She could put her smarts to good use instead of wasting them on mind games, she could use that voice and sharp tongue to guide her people, she could be beautiful and elegant.

Like now, one arm un-tucks itself from where it was folded with the other, long grey fingers curling in preparation as she reaches out to me. It's a smooth, purposeful, movement. If all of her actions were done in such a way she could pass as actual royalty. But I know what she is about to do and in no way is it mature or royal. I'll just let her pinch my cheek so I can get on with my life. Trying to avoid it is pointless.

But instead of the usual pinch and "Aw! Don't pout Bubba!" being cooed to me in the most condescending manner possible the rough pads of her fingers, worn from the strings of her guitar and a thousand years of usage, dance across my skin. My eyes are trained on her instantly; confusion and suspicion making me scan her over.

Her lips quirk up just the tiniest bit more telling me what I already know, she's amused. My frown turns into a scowl and the result, of course, is the opposite of what I desired. Her fingers curl again, sharp nails biting at my skin just hard enough to cause some pain. I gulp and immediately come to regret the action. Her lips are parting once more to reveal a pair of dangerously sharp canines and a laugh is threatening to escape. She drags one claw along my jaw slowly, dark eyes locked with my own. When she reaches my chin she stops. It's tense and I realize I'm holding my breath. She's not; her cool breath smells like peppermint.

I knew she was harassing the maid again.

As much as I want to I can't bring myself to pull away. Her lips stretch into another wicked grin and the finger she's using to tilt my face towards her snaps up making me hiss as her nail digs into my skin. I stare at her, too shocked to do much more than gawk and raise a hand to my nicked skin. It's sticky and wet with a warm liquid I recognize from skinning my knees as a child.

And just as I begin to regain my wits she's raising her finger, dripping with thick pink, to her lips; her black as night lips that have parted to reveal wickedly sharp teeth and a dark pink tongue. I gulp, a mistake that I need to stop making, and she laughs that warm, musical, laugh of hers that I secretly adore.

"Marceline…" I begin but all of the words that I had finally gathered are scattered again as she pops her finger into her mouth, black lips smiling around it and dark eyes narrowing. She's daring me to object but she doesn't have to worry, all my objections are still lost.

With a pop she pulls the finger from her mouth and smirks. "Tastes like bubblegum," she declares with a laugh.

My face heats up and I take a step back. "Good lord Marceline!"

She laughs swooping forward and before I can bat her away a chaste kiss has been pressed to my lips. "Thanks Bubba!" She chuckles, black eyes sparkling.

My words have deserted me once more.


End file.
